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Goldilocks and the Three Bear Brothers

Page 11

by Pebbles Lacasse


  “Shall I read a passage for you?” Charles loved how Alice’s face flushed. He had romantic feelings for her and he was certain she felt the same way for him. He’d known her since she was a young girl and he had never dreamed that she would someday be the object of his affection. He had been reading stories to her for many years but now it had taken on a whole new meaning, one which he was certain she shared. Her blue eyes glistened with joy and excitement.

  “Yes, please! But not too loudly.” She looked around to make sure no one was listening. “This is the only excitement I get around here.”

  Alice examined the cover, her eyebrows raised in interest and said, “I’ve never read this book, The Depths of The Rabbit Hole.” She turned to the synopsis and began to read it out loud, “Alice is all grown up and looking for fun when she is whisked back to Wonderland for more slutty adventures. She meets a lot of friendly faces along the way, but is it the Ace of Spades that pulls her card in the end? Will she land face up or face down?”

  “It sounds like you,” Charles remarked.

  “Doesn’t it, though? Even the main character has the same name! But the big question is, who is the author?”

  “It doesn’t say,” Charles reported and stiffened.

  He didn’t want her to know that he was the author of all the stories about Alice. They had started innocently when she was just a young girl but as she aged the stories aged with her. Charles incorporated every stage of her young life into these stories and though he read them to her, Alice had no idea that he was the author. He often wondered when she would figure it out. Perhaps she already knew and was just being polite, but whatever the true circumstances, he continued to pretend that he didn’t know who the author was. Now that the stories were taking on a sexual tone, he wondered if he ever wanted her to find out it was he who had written them.

  “It doesn’t? That’s so odd, don’t you think? All the Alice books have no author. Do you think the author wanted to remain anonymous?”

  “I do indeed, Alice. Regardless, they are good stories that strike your fancy and I would love to read this one to you.”

  “I hope it’s a love story,” she said dreamily as she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.

  Charles was in awe of her beauty, her long, blonde hair framing her heart-shaped face. His heart began to beat more quickly until it felt like a loud banging in his chest. He wondered if Alice could hear it and if she could see through him now. He experienced a pang of longing for her he had grown used to. He couldn’t love her. He just couldn’t. She was like a daughter to him and yet here he was, nursing a huge crush on the same girl he had watched grow up. Her eyes danced as she waited for him to begin.

  “It looks like a twisted love story,” he told her. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes!”

  She smiled dreamily as he began to read, settling into a comfortable position on her hospital bed. She felt her body slipping away as her mind entered the story. She became the Alice of Wonderland instead of the Alice always locked in the invisible chains of the hospital that had been her home for so long. Her body went numb as her mind came alive. If she was mentally ill, she didn’t care. She rather enjoyed the escape of her own imagination.

 

 

 


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